


"Dreams of William"

by 2momsmakearight



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Comfort/Angst, F/M, Heavy Angst, Season/Series 10, The X-Files Revival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 01:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5847787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2momsmakearight/pseuds/2momsmakearight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the guilt was so overwhelming all he could do was lay in bed, willing himself to remember to breathe, but hoping he would die just so the pain would subside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Dreams of William"

Title: Dreams of William  
Author: 2momsmakearight (Liz)  
Rating: PG  
Summary: post "Founders Mutation". Mulder and Scully share dreams of William.   
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Not making any money.   
Author's note: some serious (albeit cathartic) Mulder-angst. I still need a beta. I hope you like it. Feedback appreciated. Enjoy!!!! 

 

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Mulder placed the tattered photo on the placemat in front of him. He took his hands and roughly scrubbed his face, ridding himself of the raw emotion building in his body. Only when his hands touched his skin did he realize that he had been crying - hot silent tears streaming down his face and jaw. He breathed raggedly and pushed away from the table. 

It wasn't often that he took out the sole photo he owned of his son. Scully sent him a digital copy of the photo while he was still using his email when he was on the run. He made the print in a wallet size so he could carry William's picture with him wherever he went. He felt closer to him that way, drawing on his son's image to soothe away the demons threatening to overtake him. 

Its edges were bent and worn from the lonely nights he spent thinking of his son and his mother, desperate to return home to the both of them - to feel Scully in his arms - to kiss his son and bury his nose in the baby's neck, smelling that sweet baby scent. He ached for the both of them. He ached so much...

Sometimes the guilt was so overwhelming all he could do was lay in bed, willing himself to remember to breathe, but hoping he would die just so the pain would subside. 

Scully only noticed it consume him at the end. She didn't notice when he would leave their bed at night, creep downstairs and take the picture from its hiding place. She didn't notice when he sat at his desk, silently crying, praying that his son would forgive him - praying that Scully would forgive him. His fingers traced the baby's face in the photo drawing on memory, willing his mind to remember how soft his skin was...what he smelled like...the color of his eyes. 

His eyes. 

They were Scully's. As he sat at the kitchen table looking at the picture, he couldn't help but look into the deep blue depths of his child's eyes. Those eyes warmed his heart on many nights after he left. It made him feel like Scully was with him. That he wasn't alone - that he wasn't exactly the kind of father he feared he would become. Absent. Deserter. Coward. 

He only knew his son for that short weekend after he was born. But the second Scully placed him in his arms his heart swelled to a size he didn't know was capable. All that mattered to him in this world was in this Georgetown bedroom. 

This was everything he never realized he always wanted. And for the first time in a long time he was happy. Fox Mulder was a father...and he was happy. 

But, like most things in his life, he wasn't meant for happiness as it became apparent that his and William's life was in danger. Scully had urged him to go. He never should have listened to her. He should have fought. But, he left. He deserted his family. 

If Scully hated herself for not having the courage to stand by William, Mulder hated himself for ever leaving that day. If he could go back and change one day, he wouldn't go. 

He almost didn't do it. 

He couldn't. 

He held Scully in his arms that morning, both sobbing quietly as fear and sadness overtook them. With red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks he walked over to William's bassinet and gently lifted him, placing a kiss on his forehead before nuzzling his tiny nose with his larger one and sending a silent prayer for his safety to whoever might be listening. 

He then walked over to Scully, taking her cheeks in his hands and kissing her passionately, hoping she could feel all the love he had for her in one moment, his lips on hers, his tongue caressing her own. It would have to be enough. He only hoped he would never forget how she felt in his arms. 

He gently wiped her tears away with his thumbs and smiled sadly before he turned and walked out of that Georgetown apartment. 

It would be the last time he would see his son. This picture was all he had left. Scully had a few but when she left him almost a year ago she took the remaining evidence of their union with her. 

Maybe she thought he wouldn't want them. Maybe she thought he didn't care. But she didn't know. 

She didn't know. 

He stood in his kitchen staring into the living room - looking at the couch that shared so many memories for him and Scully. He still held so much hope that, one day, he would be able to watch a movie together on that couch...as a family; his arm around William, sharing buttered popcorn, while Scully's head rested on his other shoulder and her hand on his leg. She would lecture them for their buttered popcorn 'don't wipe your hands on the furniture!' and they would tease her for her tasteless plain kernels. Mulder would offer her a beer and she would decline (like she always did) but somehow she would wind up sharing half of it. 

He closed his eyes and felt his chest tightening. He rubbed his chest with one hand hoping to soothe the pain of guilt and sadness threatening to consume him.

He walked over to the wall where his phone lay and dialed the number he knew by heart. He closed his eyes briefly as he composed himself. 

"Hi..." came a low raspy voice on the other line. Mulder's stomach bottomed out at the sound. He knew that tone of voice. She had been crying. 

He paused, unsure of what to say. He opened his mouth a few times trying to find the words. "Scully...." he breathed, his voice more broken than he thought. He heard her sniffle on the other end. 

Mulder walked back the kitchen table and sat. He cleared his throat, pushing the lump back down. "I...I think about him all the time, Scully," he said softly and painfully. He heard a small gasp followed by a sniffle on the other end. 

His voice was gentle but pained and laced with emotion. "I think about him every day..." He paused and leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath, hoping he could keep his emotions under control.

He ran his finger along the edge of the photo still sitting in front of him. "I know...I know I was only there for that weekend," tears were building in his eyes and his voice grew thick, "but I loved him, Scully. I did....I still do," it came out like a whisper. He closed his eyes as hot tears streamed down his cheeks. 

He heard more sniffling and muffled sobs on the other end. Her sobs were his undoing. "We never talked about him, Scully" his voice strained. 

His heart was breaking. 

Why had they never talked about him? He knew why. It was too painful. Too painful to dream of a son you will never see again. Why share your aspirations for a child you will never know?

They rarely spoke of their shared loss and when they did speak his name it was in passing. What would have happened if they did talk about him - if they had actually sat down and talked about what happened? Would she blame him? Would he blame her? 

He could hear the gentle sobs (likely muffled by her hand) on the other end but he had to know. He felt his chin trembling and hot tears pricked his eyes, blurring the vision of the picture in front of him. 

"Do you...do you blame me, Scully?" he cried, unable to stop the sob that arose in him. He pulled the mouthpiece away from his face, lest she hear the raw emotion. He took a breath and continued, "It's okay if you do...God knows I blame myself. And I'm sorry, Scully. I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you and our son," he cried. 

He took the phone away from his ear for a moment, his sobs overpowering him. He bit his knuckle to compose himself. His voice was pained and his chest ached with unshed emotion he tried to contain. 

He put his elbow on the table and cradled his forehead in his palm, sniffling. "I...I'll always love him...I'll always remember what he means to us," he paused, before continuing. 

"I'll always remember you holding him that night." His chin quivered and tears built again. He began to cry and he didn't have the strength to stop it, his chest bursting open with feelings he had contained for 15 years. "You were so beautiful that night, Dana," his voice was strained and he wondered if she could understand him. 

He heard her sobs and sniffling grow louder. "You were so beautiful...and I...I held our son and..." (hiccup) "and I looked at you standing there...and I...I was so in love with you at that moment...we made a baby, Dana. We made William," the last coming out as barely a whisper, his body and soul growing tired. 

His voice was soft, "I had so many dreams for us at that moment." He wiped his face and cleared his throat, finding his voice. "I still do." He heard a small gasp.

Mulder looked at the wall clock and noticed the ticking of the hand, both silent over the line, the only sounds being their shared sniffling and breathing. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, taking a shaky breath. "Anyway...I just wanted you to know," he sighed. "Bye, Scully," he said before he disconnected the line. 

He pushed back from the table, taking the small photo and placing it back in the drawer where he kept it. He splashed cold water on his face before groaning into a paper towel as he dried it, the threat of a headache already blooming. He shuffled into the living room and laid down on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. He felt drained, his body exhausted from the spent emotion. 

He pulled the red wool blanket off the back of the couch and covered his body, letting his eyes drift shut. The fatigue from his breakdown consumed him. 

He dreamt of him. He dreamt that they were at the beach. Mulder watched as his son splashed in the ocean, running from the waves and happily shrieking. He could feel the warmth of the sun on his face and heard the seagulls squawking in the distance. The sound of the waves crashing was peaceful. He was content. 

He turned and saw Scully sitting next to him on the beach towel, her copper hair glittering in the sun. Her blue eyes pierced his and she reached out to touch his cheek. God, how he missed her touch. It was like she was there, her touch so familiar to him, he could feel it even in his dreams. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. 

"Mulder...Mulder it's me," he heard, waking him from his slumber. 

His eyes hurt and felt swollen. Her hand was on his cheek. When he was finally able to open his eyes, he looked at her. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks stained with tears. "Scully...?" he whispered, his brow furrowed with confusion. She was kneeling beside him on the floor next to the couch. 

"You really dream about him?" she asked, her voice strained and barely above a whisper, and her eyes pleading. He could do nothing but nod, his face pained seeing the emotions on hers. He reached out to wipe a stray tear. She turned her head to the side and hid her face as her emotions overwhelmed her again. 

He pulled her towards him, pulling and urging her body to mold to his on the couch, her face buried in his neck. He could feel her tears streaming down his collarbone onto his shirt. He cradled her against him, letting her sobs wrack her body. He placed soft kisses on the top of her head and waited for her sobs to lessen. He gently sighed. 

"Tell me..." he heard, her voice no louder than a whisper, too thick with emotion. Her face nuzzled his neck and her free hand clutched his shirt. She shifted against him and he pulled her closer, unable to let her go. 

"It was a lot like this, actually," he said quietly. 'It felt like home' he wanted to say. His hand at her back lazily ran up and down her spine like he had done hundreds of times. 

"We built a rocket ship from the kit he got for his birthday that year." He closed his eyes as he remembered his dream. "He looked just like you, Scully. Beautiful big blue eyes with sort of a sandy-colored hair but in the sun you could see hints of red. He was so excited to shoot off the rockets," he said smiling against her head. He placed a kiss there before he continued. "You should have seen the look on his face when it went shooting into the sky, Scully. He was beautiful," his voice caught. 

Scully soothed him, gently rubbing his chest with her free hand. "He said he wanted to go into space one day," he said and Scully laughed. Mulder smiled and pulled her tighter against him. "Afterwards, we came inside where you were making dinner. We were together...as a family....then we sat on this couch and watched a movie while you berated us for eating buttered popcorn." She chuckled and swatted his chest where her free hand rested. 

She lifted her head, eyes still red and watery but a small smile played on her mouth. Her free hand came from his chest and traced his jaw, her eyes dancing from his eyes to his mouth and back again. She leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips, both their eyes fluttering closed at the sensation. 

She pulled away and laid her head back on his chest. Mulder pulled her back to him, both settling into each other's embrace, breathing deeply, cleansing their souls. 

They laid there reveling in the warmth and comfort of their embrace; Mulder rubbing lazy patterns on her back while Scully's toes wiggled against his pant leg. They enjoyed the silence together and Scully relaxed as she listened to the steady beating of his heart, his scent luring her to sleep. 

Her voice was heavy with sleep when she spoke. "I fell in love with you more that night, too, Mulder." 

His eyes snapped open and he stopped rubbing her back. "Thank you for our son," she breathed and then she snuggled closer.

Mulder's heart caught in his chest as he blinked away tears. He bent his chin and placed a kiss on her head, running his hand through her silly strands. Soon, her breaths grew steady and even, and listening to them pulled him back to sleep. 

They both dreamt of him that night. 

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The End


End file.
